


Nothing Less Than Drake

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Acceptance, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Body Image, Bukkake, Come Shot, Come Swallowing, Comeplay, Copious Amounts of Cum, Cuddling & Snuggling, Curses, Dragon-Blooded, Drug Use, First Time, Frottage, Loss of Virginity, Magic, Marijuana, Medication, Medicinal Drug Use, Oral Sex, Romance, Smoking, Stitches, Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-23 17:14:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10723695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: His name isn't TimDrakefor nothing. One curse to his entire family line was all it took to put Tim in a very awkward situation once he found out he wasn't like everyone else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For my writing challenge #16 Secret.  
> [Tim's tamper](https://www.smokingpipes.com/accessories/pipe-supplies/moreinfo.cfm?product_id=154482) because I'm a weirdo that does odd research.  
> Let's be blunt here. Tim Drake had a _Drake's_ cock, as in [this](http://bad-dragon.com/products/nox%20). Not really anthro, but sort of? His sex is different than the standard. Also, he cums like fuckin' buckets worth. Think pissing cum, _tons_ of cum. Go in prepared for it. Just sayin' ;)  
>  Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: https://8tracks.com/ploy-pich-z/we-are-red

Tim dropped his medical kit on his coffee table, shivered as he slid his cape from his shoulders, carefully draped it over the back of the couch to dry. His utility belt followed, dropped on the cushion to his right and then he was tugging his suit down, fingers snagging on the zippers occasionally, pulling in all the right places until he had wiggled his way out of it and was pooling around his feet, leaving him in only his jock. 

He settled on the carefully placed towel on his sofa, pulled his leg up beside him and reached past it to snag the disinfectant, gauze, and surgical sewing kit from it. A quick dose of disinfectant, one pass of numbing cream, and then he was holding the skin of his calf together, pushing the needle through it, quick to get the three stitches in. Maybe it wasn't overly necessary, but he certainly wasn't going to push it if he didn't have to. He'd rather have a faint scar from it than spend a few days off patrol with something that could heal faster if he had only stitched it up. 

His breath hissed out as he tied it off, the sting of the needle finally setting it. Opening the little vial of disinfecting gel, he pushed the needle in and left it there, wiping up with the gauze again and then laying out the necessary pieces to put bandages on after he got out of the shower. 

Gingerly, he stepped around his suit, picked it up along with the towel and headed for the washer. He'd wash it up first, deal with stitching up the hole later when it wasn't blood soaked and grimy from Gotham's filthy streets.

Tossing it into the washer, he added detergent and made his way through his apartment and into the bathroom. He gave his hands a quick wash, took his medications, avoiding the pain killers tonight, and instead took out a small bottle marked only with the words _Medical Grade_ , leaving it on the counter and turning on the shower. 

A few minutes took care of nature's call and before he knew it, he was standing under the shower's spray, the rich smell of cherry blossoms and sandalwood filling the air around him. It was something he took comfort in, a scent that went away by the time he woke up, so no one could ever identify him by it, but something he could luxuriate in while he was in the shower and rolling around in bed later. 

Most of them used scent-free products, things that took most smell away from them, and Tim understood it. Harder to track, harder to identify. Less things to suspect if one of them got a finger pointed at them about who they were. He'd just been unwilling to give up the one thing that actually relaxed him that wasn't the variety of medications his doctors had tried over the years. Severe anxiety issues coupled with the constant pain their lifestyle provided had proven difficult for most doctors to even try to find him something to help with both. Most medications didn't want to be mixed and half of them had horrid side effects that he just couldn't deal with if he was going to keep going in both his day-to-day life and his night job. 

Turning off the shower, Tim slicked back his hair, squeezed the water from the strands and then pulled back the curtain, stepping out onto the mat. He snagged his towel, gave his hair a good scrubbing and then patted off his body. He applied lotion - the same Bruce used to keep his hands mostly free of callouses - to the necessary places and then made a beeline to the living room, bottle in hand. Setting the towel across the cushion, he plopped down and brought his leg back up, gently applying ointment and a bandage to his calf.

He cleaned up his supplies then, neatly tucking them away and reached for the drawer in his coffee table, pulling it open and rooting around until he came up with a small cloth bag and his favorite metallic blue lighter. Leaning over the coffee table, he popped open the lid of the bottle he'd grabbed from the medicine cabinet and carefully tapped out some of his pre-ground marijuana. It wasn't the _best_ way, as he'd been told over and over, but it was less likely to get him caught if he kept his grinder and the bulk of it at one of his safe houses, only brought back this tiny bottle worth and kept it carefully alongside his other medications - too numerous to let this seem out of place. 

He packed the bowl with exceeding care, tamping it down with Buddha Belly tamper that had once been his father's, and settled back, his lighter in hand. Bringing the pipe to his mouth, he lit it and took a long drag, holding it in his lungs for as long as he could before breathing it out. This stuff didn't stink like some he'd come across, in fact it smelled almost _good_ and that had kept him going back to the same supplier, allowing them to exist as long as they remained small-time, hoping no one caught on that they weren't getting kicked out of his area.

It was a risk, but for the quality and the scent of what he got, it was worth it. _Besides_ , it wasn't like he didn't have a script for the stuff; he just didn't like what they gave him at the dispensary. 

A few more drags off the pipe and he found himself spread out on the couch, naked and feeling _alive_ for the first time in months.

It wasn't often he let himself do this, could only justify it when the anxiety had been getting too much to handle, when his other medications were starting to wear on him, and most importantly, when he could reasonably presume Bruce wasn't going to want him anywhere near him for the next week or so, giving it more than enough time to dissipate in both scent and residue in his body. 

The fourth hit finally took Tim to where he wanted to be, the feeling of his oncoming high starting to settle in over him. He carefully settled the pipe on the glass of his table, the tamper and lighter next to it. A shiver worked through him as he leaned back, kept pressure off his leg, had it carefully stretched out over the cushions, his other foot on the floor, leaving him bared to the cool air of his apartment. 

Cool drafts of air ghosted around the room, feeling nice against his overheated skin. He had a tendency to run warmer than most people, had ever since he was a child. His mother had once told him that his dad was the same way, a few degrees higher than most people was their normal. He remembered her teasing tone that they made night space heaters in the dead of the winter. 

Memories rolled through his mind, moments in his life that he was sure _normal_ families didn't have, not that Tim had ever put much stock in normality. It was just that, at times, he sort of wished certain things had turned out a bit differently than they had.

He remembered his first girlfriend, could still see the fear on her face the first time they'd changed in the same room. That memory was just as fresh in his mind as the conversation with his parents following his return to his own home was. The day Tim had learned what _normal_ was for everyone else and just how he - his entire family, really - didn't fit that mold at all.

Hours had been spent on a sexual education routine that only the _Drake_ family would ever get. Tim was certain of that. Call it a supplement to his private school education, call it an addition to his own private hell. Whatever anyone would ever want to see it as, Tim saw it as a burden he'd been weighed down with at the tender age of thirteen, and all because he'd changed out of his swim trunks in the same room as his girlfriend in some misguided attempt to be a teenage boy.

Of course his relationship hadn't lasted, Tim didn't assume many things ever would last through certain anatomical discoveries his significant others would eventually make. 

For years, he'd done his best to pretend he just wasn't into sex, had dated quite a few people and while he'd done things for them, he'd kept himself out of it. He could still remember bringing Stephanie off so many times it would leave her shaking on the bed for a good ten minutes afterward. He remembered the weight of Kon's cock against his tongue, remembered the _danger_ there because he could have been found out at any second. 

But he'd always cut it off with a wave of his hand when it came to him. No, he was _fine_. No, he didn't want anything in return. It was always a lie. A lie that kept him awake in the dead of the night, wishing like hell that just lying beside his lovers would satisfy him, wishing he was less _obvious_ in his differences. 

As it was, the only times he felt comfortable enough to be naked were like this, where he was halfway to the clouds, just out of the shower, as far out of dangerous territory as he could possibly be. Alone and in his apartment, locked away from prying eyes, no one who would bother to visit with a key, and Gods help him, it was the only time he was truly okay with himself anymore. 

Lovers made him so nervous he always wrecked the relationship. Anonymous sex would never be okay with what he had to display or it would come out _real quick_ that one of Wayne's brood had something really strange to hide. The mere thought of photos circulating the internet made him cringe enough that he almost wouldn't even use the restroom in public, that for all the years he'd had left in school, he'd actually saved up and paid for a sheath to put himself in before he could go at school. A fake penis to hide the truth away from prying eyes. 

He was certain Bruce and Alfred knew, didn't think that he'd managed to fly that far under the radar in all his years as Robin. The pair of them had probably deemed a discussion as to what he had in his pants to be far too unforgiving to ever have with him. After all, it was one thing to be teased for being too small or too big, for simple things that boys usually got teased about. But the idea of having to even talk about the very thing that made him live up to his family name seized his chest with anxiety so great that it was nearly crippling. 

And that... well, that had been the tip of the iceberg for his anxiety, really; a start to something that had grown worse every single day. 

Tim shifted, reaching down and picking up his lighter and pipe, hauling in one more long drag after he lit it, tipping his head back and actually huffing out a quiet laugh at the convenient imagery as he let the smoke stream back out of his mouth. _Puff the magic dragon_. 

The pipe and lighter returned to the table and Tim flopped back, wetting his lips, the taste of marijuana in his mouth, the sweet scent lingering around him as he drifted.

-

Tim jerked awake to the sound of footsteps. A few quick blinks and the time on the DVD player came into focus, telling him it was sometime after four in the morning, meaning no one should have been showing up in his home unless they were in some kind of trouble _or didn't belong there_.

His hand grasped the tamper from the table and he was halfway up from his seat when the lamp in the corner flickered to life, revealing Damian, devoid of shoes, his bag still draped over one shoulder. The look on his face told Tim a story that was far too easy to put together, one of a very pissed off son of Bruce Wayne having been berated for something again. No doubt something he'd done on patrol that Bruce hadn't liked. While it had been a bit since Damian had shown up here, it wasn't entirely unheard of. 

Damian's gaze swept over Tim's body, came back up to rest on his face, and he shifted his stance, fingers gripping his bag perhaps a bit tighter. "You have been smoking." Not a question, and at least Tim could understand that, given the supplies, his weed, the-

Ice cold fingers of fear slid through him as he realized he was still very much _naked_ , standing right in front of perhaps the only person in the family he didn't think could possibly just ignore what exactly resided between his legs.

Snatching up his towel, he got it around his waist, fingers shaking as he started to try to clean up his mess from the table. His hand hit the bottle of marijuana and it went cascading across the coffee table. 

Tim gave a groan, abandoning it completely, and turning tail and doing the only thing he _could do_. He disappeared into his bedroom, closed the door, and sank down on his bed, pushing his hands over his face and trying very hard to convince himself that maybe Damian hadn't noticed. Maybe the light had been too dim, maybe he'd only glanced and just thought Tim was a bit _oddly shaped_. A million maybes and he just did his best to latch onto one, grateful he'd only dozed off and the weed was still very much in his system at the moment.

He let his towel drop as he stood up, went for his pajama pants and a tank top. Once it was all on, he stood there for a moment, ran his hand nervously through his hair, and knew he had to face Damian eventually and it was better now than later, better than letting Damian come looking for him. 

He folded his towel and placed it on the dresser, skirting around it and opening the door, stepping out into the living room, which was still just as dim as before, just the single light on. The first thing he noticed was that his cape and belt had been carefully moved, spread out over his chair instead of the couch and that Damian had retrieved the spare comforter and pillow from the hall closet. The second thing was that his weed had been returned to the container, which now sat capped on the coffee table, all of his supplies settled next to it, bag carefully smoothed out to the right of it all, as if Damian had taken great care to ensure it was all taken care of.

Tim paused at the edge of the sofa, finding Damian changed into his pajamas, scrolling through his phone, the soft light filtering up to brighten his features. After a moment, he glanced up, turning off the screen and settling the phone on the armrest. He gestured faintly toward Tim's setup. "I did not know if you were done."

Something in Tim wanted to say he wasn't, wanted to actually go for what he usually did when he gave himself the night, especially now that he was hedging back into Anxiety Land given what Damian _had_ to have seen; but the other part of him told him that Damian was here, that he couldn't justify possibly making him and his things smell like it and getting him in trouble with Bruce. Not that Damian was a _child_ anymore, but that didn't mean he wasn't here on his couch for a damn reason and Tim was fairly confident that reason was his father. 

Tim took a step toward his things, preparing himself to put them away, but Damian moved faster than he did, picked up the pipe and lighter, met Tim's slightly alarmed gaze head-on and brought it to his lips, flicked the lighter and held it over the bowl, taking in a good drag of the smoke, only coughing a little bit as he let it back out, held the pipe and lighter out to Tim. 

Something caught in Tim's throat as he watched, something he'd denied every single time he'd ever looked at Damian and he tamped down on it hard, taking the items from him, taking great care in settling himself on the floor instead of on the couch that Damian occupied and took as big of a hit as he could manage, closing his eyes and begging it to kick in quickly. Another hit and he tipped his head back, letting the smoke out with a sigh, feeling the nervous pressure in his chest subside to some degree. 

Opening his eyes, he glanced back at Damian, found him watching, a thoughtful look on his face and he had the sinking sensation that he was about to get the worst volley of questions he'd had since the last time he'd messed up badly enough to end up thinking he could sleep with someone. What he got was far stranger, if he were honest. "This is not my first time smoking, if you are worried." When Tim didn't reply, Damian waved his hand. "Call it curiosity. A need to know why it was such a big deal... and then, really, call it dealing with the agony of having my spine replaced."

"You were like... what, eleven?" The words fell from Tim's lips before he could stop them, knew the disbelief was thick within them.

Damian shrugged. "It is amazing what you can get off of certain siblings when they think you are an invalid."

Tim blinked dumbly at him before his lips parted in complete disbelief. " _Dick_? Are you serious?"

A huff of a laugh left Damian's throat and he held out his hand, fingers curling a bit to indicate he wanted the supplies again, and for some damn reason, Tim didn't hesitate to give them to him. He watched as Damian lit up again, watched his eyes go half-lidded, his features go soft as he breathed it back out with such precision. There was no way it had only been once with how well he did it, with how easily he took such a big hit.

One more and Damian passed it back to Tim. There wasn't much left, but Tim knew he didn't need more anyway. He took the final drag off of it and settled it back down on the table, lighter beside it as he watched Damian stretch out right where he'd been earlier. 

"So... who got you this time? Some rando or someone we know?"

Tim blinked at him for a moment before he realized he meant his leg and he honestly felt like he'd entered some sort of parallel world where he was being asked about his leg instead of his junk, though he supposed there was some small possibility Damian hadn't noticed. 

"Just some piece of shit. Drunk ass mother fucker in the damn gutter and I underestimated him." Tim sighed. "I went to help him and he was so out of it, he thought I was going to kill him. Had to call GCPD in on him. Not before he got his damn knife in my leg though."

Damian winced sympathetically. "Nothing major I take it, since you opted for this instead of the painkillers." He gestured at the supplies on the table, turning his head to watch Tim.

"Nothing big. I just stitched it up instead of waiting so it'd heal faster... so I can get back out tomorrow instead of waiting a few days."

"Speaking of which... I moved your clothes to the dryer. Put mine in the washer. Noticed you have a hole in the suit," Damian held up a finger as he yawned and then shifted until his head was nearly on the armrest. "If you would like, I can stitch it for you in the morning."

Tim studied him, watched Damian with all the confusion in the world. He was being so kind to him - not that he wasn't usually these days - but it just seemed to Tim like he should have been running for the hills, trying to get the hell out of here as quick as he could. At the very least, he should have been trying to figure out what had replaced Tim, because something with _that_ between their legs could never ever be him. The thoughts swirled until Tim could feel his forehead creasing, knew how he was looking at Damian, and knew what was about to leave his mouth and there wasn't a thing in the world that was going to stop it.

"Did you just not see or are you trying to ignore it?"

He watched confusion cloud Damian's eyes, saw the way he shifted so he was sitting up a bit more, studying Tim carefully, and then understanding washed over him, obvious to Tim in every way. Damian sat up the rest of the way, leaned over to he was resting his forearms on his knees, his hands lightly clasped between them, and met Tim's gaze head-on. "Do you honestly believe I did not already know?"

Tim stared up at him, his heart pounding so hard he could _hear it_ , his head swimming a bit. "You _what_?"

"Father has had me filing documents for _years_. I have seen every member of this family's paperwork. If you think I did not notice the genetic abnormalities and chase them down to make sure you were okay, you are _very_ much mistaken." 

Tim let that sink in before he leaned against the table, reaching to rub one hand over his face, trying to wipe the shock away and knowing he was failing spectacularly in that regard. "But how did you know it was," he gestured downward as vaguely as he could, " _this_?"

"Your father." The words were simple, one thing that Tim had never thought about trying to hide, had never considered he'd need to. His father's medical records, the fact that he'd also used Dr. Thompkins and there was no way Damian hadn't gained access to that database a long, long time ago. "When I realized it was in your genes, I thought to check on your parents, to see how it came to be. Sometimes you can track it, sometimes you cannot. He has the same abnormalities and after that, it was easy to make the assumption the result would be the same. Your grandfather as well, though interestingly it seems no one prior to that has any odd records, though admittedly those are poor given the time."

Tim's mind did its best to short circuit, hearing Damian talk about his entire family like this, knowing he'd tracked it back and he wondered if it had been some morbid curiosity or something far more genuine. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he muttered, "Curse, if you would like to believe that. Grandfather pissed off some magical something or other - that part I am very unclear on given how vague my father was when he finally told me I wasn't like normal people - and I guess they put the curse on all males in our line. Behold... we keep breeding men. Fucking figures, right?"

"Interesting." The sound of the couch shifting met Tim's ears and then some joint in Damian's body popping as he stretched. "Regardless, it does not appear to be causing you any health issues... unless there are things you have been unwilling to report. In which case, it would be best if you did."

Tim sighed, dropping his hand to the table, staring down at it, feeling somehow distant from this whole situation, able to answer though it felt almost robotic. "Not unless you count lying about your sexuality to everyone you've ever dated as a health issue."

"Why would you need to lie? You have stated numerous times that you ar-" Damian trailed off and one glace confirmed he'd caught up with what Tim was saying. " _Tim_." And if that wasn't pity in his voice, Tim didn't know what the hell it was.

He held up a hand, shaking his head. "Save it. I don't need some half-assed lecture about how surely _someone_ will be forgiving of my _issue_ and be willing to bed me. I've already heard it all. Every fuckin' argument someone could ever give me about how someone normal could like me has already been laid out for me. I mean, after all, my _mother_ was normal, right? And she bedded my father or I wouldn't exist. But, you know what? That was a different damn time and to be perfectly blunt about it, their marriage was arranged. Sure, she loved him after she got to know him, made the best of what they had, but my grandfather _knew_ that was the only way someone would ever love his son. By being forced into it. And I'm not at all here for that sort of _shit_."

Damian dropped down to the floor in front of Tim, settled there, cross-legged in front of him and Tim recoiled to a certain extent, not having expected someone so close to him when he was busy getting angry for the first time in years over something he couldn't change. 

Tim stared at him, breathing hard from the vent of his internalized anger, from the pain of what he knew he would never have, and somehow managed not to lash out at Damian for being near him.

Damian's voice was calm when he spoke, something Tim envied him for at the moment. "I do not presume to know what anyone has told you, but I keep hearing you say you are not normal. I would like to provide you with a number of cases of genetic variances that are more common than you would think. For example, we all have what could reasonably be called a tail during the fourth week of our gestational period. For most it goes away, for some, they are born with what presents as a tail-like structure, somewhere around twelve centimeters long."

Tim made an annoyed little sound in the back of his throat. "If by some, you mean like what... under thirty cases since the freaking nineteen hundreds? That's hardly any better than three people in the same family line having a fucking _dragon dick_. That's virtually the same damn boat, except you can fucking cut theirs off. Can't really do that with mine!" 

Damian stared at him for a moment, pain written on his face as if it were an open book for a moment before he closed himself off again, lifted his head just enough to make him look faintly arrogant and cleared his throat, continuing. "Fine, then we will stick strictly to sexual differentiations and we will remain within _current_ numbers. One in every hundred people could technically be classified as intersex at the time of birth. Be that from chromosomal differentiation from what has clinically been identified as male and female or be that something greater, more outwardly obvious, such as your case. Approximately one out of every eighty three thousand people in this world have some sort of very obvious variance in their genitalia, usually the development of both, one never outweighing the other during the gestational period." 

Damian shifted forward, making sure he caught Tim's gaze. "To make that a bit clearer for you, there are around seven point five _billion_ people on this planet right now. That gives a rough estimate of around ninety five _thousand_ of those people having something very obviously non-standard happening in their pants. Not counting anything outside of pure genetics and birth evidences. So I am going to need you to get your head out of your asshole and start paying attention to the _facts_. Maybe you are not what you deem normal, maybe this is not what someone would expect to find in your pants, but _damn it, Tim_ , there is at least _one_ person who doesn't give a _fucking shit_ about what it looks like, okay?!"

This time Tim did recoil a bit, the volume of Damian's voice, the passionate way he spit the last sentence out at him left Tim stinging and he couldn't help but lash back out at him. "Oh yeah, _who then_?! There's not been a damn person who would have-"

Tim yelped as Damian surged over him, his hand grasping behind his neck, squeezing, and then Damian's mouth was rough against Tim's own, all teeth and tongue, desperation and intensity. Just as quickly as he'd ended up there, Damian was gone, back in his own space, leaning against the couch, his arms crossed over his chest and a flush high in his cheeks that spoke of irritation and embarrassment. Tim pressed his fingertips to his lips, taking in a steadying breath before he slumped back against the table. His tongue dragged along his lower lip, tasting Damian there, and he shivered slightly, having forgotten what it felt like to have someone close to him. 

They were quiet for longer than Tim would have expected Damian to be patient for and it was him who finally broke the silence, his voice sounding even more fragile than he felt. "You... and _me_?"

Damian shifted, his hands moving to the floor on either side of him, his gaze anywhere but on Tim now, though it was pretty clear to Tim that it was more due to Damian's own discomfort with any display of affection than it was with anything else. "Why not? I already know. I am interested in your both on an academic level and on an emotional one. If we are to be truly honest, I used to act like a fool around you for the same reason grade school boys are incorrigible assholes to the people they like."

"I had no idea." Tim closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he began to shift around, mindful of his leg, and finally got himself out of the floor. Holding out his hand, he waited until Damian grasped it, helped him from the floor. He chewed his lip nervously for a moment before he finally offered something he hadn't thought he would ever manage to again.

"I, uh," he swallowed and then managed to get it out, "I miss _contact_. Having someone there in the morning, body heat, having someone warm in my bed." He shifted on his feet and then tipped his head toward the bedroom. "It's a big bed..."

Amusement danced in Damian's eyes as he studied Tim. "Are you inviting me to your bedroom?"

"Well... yeah?" Tim gave him a sheepish look, reaching back to rub at his neck. "I mean, I'm not trying to imply anything or like _you know_ , but I mean... I just-"

Damian's warmth pressed up against him, this time more fully, his hands cupping Tim's face and his lips pressing gently to his and Tim knew he was just trying to shut him up. "I will join you if you stop trying to make excuses."

A little tremble worked its way through Tim's body as he leaned into the contact of Damian's hands, of his body against him, and he _knew_ how he was going to end up come morning. Burrowed against Damian's warmth, clinging to him in every single way, desperate not to let go of what he needed so badly it _ached_. 

It was Damian that pulled away, that took Tim's hand and led him down the hall to his own bedroom. The door was shut behind them and Tim watched in the semi-darkness as Damian stripped out of his shirt, left it draped across the foot of the bed. 

Pushing himself into gear, he crawled up on the bed, shoved the covers around until he could get under them, the coolness of the sheets giving him goosebumps as he slid under them. He barely got himself stretched out before Damian was there, warm against his side, one leg sliding up over Tim's thigh, twining with his own, so careful to avoid his bandages. 

Tim shifted, tugging the covers up over them, moving his pillow until he was satisfied with how he was cradled up against Damian. Once he'd relaxed, he let reality start to sink in, allowed himself to realize that Damian was _really here_ beside him, running nearly as hot as he did. Damian's bare chest was pressed to his shoulder, along his forearm, and Tim let his hand turn to press against it, sighing softly at the feeling of someone beside him after years of isolation. 

"It's been so long..."

Damian was silent for just long enough that Tim wondered if he was even going to respond. "It does not have to be. Even if you do not want to be with me, I could still come by for this."

A sharp pang filled Tim's chest at the words, at the barest hint of fear of rejection that shone in Damian's words, and he realized he hadn't exactly said a thing to reciprocate anything Damian had told him. Sure, he'd invited him back here, but only to share his bed, not for something more. He'd made _that part_ pretty clear. For a moment he let himself feel how Damian must have, a small frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

Reaching up, he let his fingertips ghost over Damian's cheek, setting his palm along his jawline, thumb lightly stroking. "Who said I wouldn't want to be?"

The feeling of Damian's hand on his hip arched his back and he had to bite back a gasp at how good it felt to even get such a small touch. So many denied things bubbled up inside him and his next breath was unsteady, gasped into his lungs as he fought not to jerk his hips against his comforter. 

Damian's hand moved, fingers sliding under the waistband of his sleep pants, barely touching the skin there, not meandering any further though if Tim were to judge the way he was breathing, he was pretty sure Damian wanted it just as bad as he did. "I know you said you only wanted my presence, not-"

Tim surged up, utterly unable to tell his body to take it easy. His lips crashed into Damian's and his hands moved then, sliding down over Damian's sides and pushing into his sweats, splaying over his hip and turning him over onto his back. 

The covers fell from around them, pooling at Tim's waist as he pressed one leg between Damian's legs, situated himself straddling one of his thighs, and just _gave in_. His hips canted forward and he whined into Damian's mouth at the contact, at finally allowing himself to be aroused and touching another human being. His hips jerked and his belly quivered and the instant Damian's hands pushed down into his pants, took hold of his ass and squeezed, Tim released a strangled cry against his lips. 

Ducking his head, he tried to pull himself together, trembled as Damian's fingers kept kneading. "S-sensitive."

Damian's mouth dragged along Tim's jaw, teeth nipping between his words. "Of course you are. You've never let go with anyone."

Tim rocked desperately against Damian's hip, his cock swelling in his pants. He panted roughly against his shoulder, thighs spreading more so he could get the leverage to actually rut against Damian, wishing like hell it was skin-to-skin contact. 

He could feel himself start to throb, feel the swell at the base of his cock that meant he was starting to engorge in preparation to cum. With a whine, he stopped, squirming around as he tried not to just lose himself. He squirmed a bit more and then gasped as he felt Damian's erection bump against his hip, undeniable and _hot_ , even through fabric. 

The distraction was everything Tim needed. The quiver in his belly ebbed and he forced himself to focus on Damian's body instead of his own. Moving around, he started to pull Damian's sweats down, made a surprised little sound when Damian helped him, got them completely off of one leg and scrunched down to mid-thigh on his other. Tim reached behind himself and tugged, moving them most of the rest of the way off, and then allowed himself to touch Damian.

His hands glided over warm skin, over toned musculature, along the faintest trail of hair leading down to his groin. Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to the start of the trail, his hand cupping Damian's shaft, fingers curling around it as he started to stroke, earning himself a beautiful groan. His lips followed the trail, brought him down to Damian's cock, and without hesitation, he took him into his mouth, earned a choked off cry for his efforts, and Damian's hands in his hair.

Tim's cock throbbed in his pants, but he told himself to be patient, that at least Damian probably wouldn't mind him jerking off next to him once he was done. The idea of being able to cum even in the same room as someone else forced a moan up around Damian's cock, had him trying not to sink lower over his leg and use it to rut against. 

Images of fitting himself against Damian came up inside him, glorious pictures of Damian spreading for him, of their cocks - so different but so perfect - rubbing against one another until Tim's shaft was swelling, until he was letting out his copious amounts of cum all over Damian's cock, until he was keening with the release of so much pent up desire. 

Damian's hands hauled him up off of his cock and Tim gasped, realizing his hips were rocking against the air; that he hadn't been breathing as he'd been sucking Damian off. He gasped in the necessary air, his cheeks burning that he'd lost himself so completely. 

"Come here."

Tim obliged, moving up Damian's body until he was settled between his legs, though not touching a damn thing. 

Damian's hands ghosted over his sides, slid down until he was pushing Tim's pants down his hips, easing his waistband over his cock, and then he was curling his fingers around Tim's cock.

Tim knew what he was feeling, that he was exploring the delicate swirls and ridges along the underside of his shaft, that his fingers were running along the sensitive series of bumps along the top. Damian's thumb pushed to his slit and Tim almost choked on his own gasp of pleasure, his head falling back as Damian explored him. Both hands came into play, one still exploring each path that the series of ridges along his cock, the other sliding down from his belly, over his hip and then splaying around the base of his cock, pressing against the most sensitive part, the part that was threatening to swell with his cum even now. 

His hips rocked forward, a huff of breath leaving him, and Damian took it as a cue, pressing more firmly against it, rubbing as his other hand finally curled around Tim's shaft and began to stroke. 

Tim could feel the precum oozing from him, knew it was obscene, stringing down onto Damian, spilling over with each and every stroke. His hips pushed and he panted roughly, barely keeping himself from going completely mindless with his need. 

The hand on Tim's shaft left for a moment and he heard Damian moan, heard sucking sounds and then a rough pant of, "Oh _yeah_." The next instant, he was being shoved back on the bed and Damian was over him, his hands on his belly, keeping him down, and then his cock was sliding into wet heat and he gave a shout, realizing instantly that he was getting his first blow job. 

He fought his hips, tipped his head back and whined to the air. His hands clenched in the bed sheets and he trembled with the effort of not fucking up into Damian's mouth as he bobbed over him, seeming to almost suckle at his cock, earning wave after wave of his precum. 

Damian came up off of him, panting, a smile in his voice when he spoke. "You taste like _heaven_ , do you know that?"

Tim whimpered, managed a quiet, "No," and then Damian was back again and Tim was certain he had to be choking himself on his cock. He knew he wasn't exactly small and the way Damian was going to town on him was nothing short of a miracle. 

Tim's cock started to swell again and he keened, his hips rocking upward and holding there as his belly tightened. Damian's hands cupped the base of his cock, right over the parts that were engorging. He knew from his own explorations that his shaft was lengthening just the last bit as well, that he was literally _growing_ down Damian's throat right now. Thighs trembling, belly quivering, his hands buried in Damian's hair as his hips surged upward, and then he was cumming.

He felt his entire cock pulse and then he was streaming his offering into Damian's mouth. Damian came up off of him, his hand taking his mouth's place, and Tim went rigid, straining as his body continued to empty itself of his cum, the mess of it splashing down over his abdomen, his hips, sliding down his shaft to coat it in the pearly mess of it. There was _so much of it_ , so much more than usual, and Tim knew it was because he was finally having a _good_ orgasm. 

When he finally relaxed down against the mattress, Damian was over him in a second, his cock nudging against Tim's own, his hand cradling Tim as he thrust excitedly against him. 

Their lips met and Tim tasted himself there, tasted his cock and his cum and something that was uniquely Damian beneath it all. He felt the smeared mess of his cum on Damian's lips, knew how much he'd cum in his mouth, that it hadn't let up until he'd emptied himself, and _knew_ how much of a mess Damian had to be right then. 

His hips began to jerk roughly against Damian's own, his belly going tight again, and he gave in, rolling them over, pressing their cocks tightly together as he started to outright fuck himself against Damian, a strained little mantra of, "Yes, yes, _yes_ ," leaving his lips as he moved. 

Damian's hands grasped his ass, pulled him in closer, until he could feel the tremble in his thighs, hear the hitch in his breath, until he knew the very instant Damian was losing it. He heard his moan and then he felt the wet heat of his cum pulsing up between them, spilling down over his shaft, and he rutted into it excitedly, choking out, "You're cumming!"

Damian's hips arched from the bed and Tim rode him harder, fucked his cock through the mess of their combined cum until he was swelling again, until the bed was hitting the wall with every movement, and then Damian's hand was pressing against the base of his cock, against the sensitive, engorged parts, and then was crying out desperately, cum spraying out of his cock again, the thick stream of it overwhelming Damian's body's ability to keep it all on him. It rolled down over his sides, pooled on the sheets, and Tim convulsed over him, certain he was cumming his insides right out of him. 

It just kept going until he was shaking from the force of it, until something inside him snapped and started pulsating, and he threw back his head and _screamed_ , his hips jerking wildly. Nothing more was coming out of him, but he was still _orgasming_ and he couldn't seem to stop it. By the time he did, he was weak, dizzy, barely able to keep himself upright, and he only distantly felt Damian moving him to lie down on his back. 

He faded in and out of consciousness for what felt like an eternity before he started to focus again. The first thing he felt was Damian tucked up against his side, his hand soothingly rubbing over his chest, occasionally dipping down to his hip, playing over it and then gliding back up. The second was the stickiness of his cum drying all over both of them. 

Wincing, he tipped his head back and stared up into the darkness toward the ceiling. "Get more than you bargained for?"

He could feel Damian's laugh and it was like a dream, nothing he was used to when it came to Damian, and he could feel it pulling at his own lips, urging him toward a smile of his own. "More _cum_ than I bargained for, but I was prepared for the rest."

Tim snorted. "I guess _that_ wasn't in the files then."

Damian made a strangled sort of sound. "No... no it was not." There was lots of shifting and then Damian was standing up, tugging Tim with him. "I think it's time for a shower. Not that I _mind_ being covered in your cum, but it is drying."

"Oh _trust me_ , I'm aware." Tim let Damian get him up, moved through the house after him, didn't protest at all when Damian started the shower or when he turned on the dim overhead light. 

He shoved the rest of his clothing all the way off, stepping out of it and following Damian into the shower, yelping a little when Damian tugged him against his chest and then turned him so he was pressed against the wall. 

Damian slid down his body, kneeling in front of him, and slowly began to lather his body up. First his legs and thighs, his belly and his hips, and then, painstakingly, his cock, his hands so gentle on him. 

It wasn't long before Tim was panting, his length engorged again, his belly going tight. He pressed his palms against the wall and stared down at Damian, at how _perfect_ he looked on his knees in front of him. 

Damian started to rinse him off, finally done cleaning him with the soap, handfuls of water cascading over him, his other hand moving over him until he was sure he was free of suds. Even then, Damian didn't stop, continued with the pretense of cleaning Tim off, and Tim _knew_ it was exactly that. Knew from the way the touches changed, from the curiosity shining in Damian's eyes as he leaned in and licked over Tim's slit, taking him in his mouth and pulling back off. 

"I cannot help myself." Damian's eyes met Tim's.

Tim moaned, his hips pushing forward just the slightest bit. "Do it... let me watch you do it."

Damian licked his lips and Tim couldn't look away from them, watched as his teeth pulled lightly at his bottom lip and then his tongue flicked out again. "Tell me what you want me to do and I will."

Somewhere in the depths of his mind, Tim knew Damian was trying to help him, to draw him out and make him admit he wanted to be blown, right here in his shower. Lust surged through him at the thought of cumming in Damian's mouth again and he felt his cock throb, watched it visibly jump in Damian's hand. Just like that, he managed to get the words out. "It felt so _good_. Please... do it again."

"Do _what_ again?"

Tim groaned, reached down to spear his hand into Damian's wet hair, stared down at him, and whispered, "Suck me off. Let me cum in your mouth again."

Damian moaned, shifted just enough Tim could see his cock was hard, too. His hands grasped Tim's hips and he leaned in - Tim half guiding him - and took him in his mouth, lips closing along Tim's shaft. 

Something crackled to life inside Tim, watching Damian willingly put his mouth around his cock, and he almost sobbed in relief, his hands leaving Damian's hair, slapping to the wet wall again. 

_Finally_. Someone _finally_ wanted him just the way he was; all of him: mind _and_ body. 

Tim watched as Damian eased down on his shaft, took almost all of him and then pulled back up, sucking eagerly at the head before sliding back down and setting up a good pace. His hands eventually drifted in from his hips, came to caress the sensitive swell at the base, fingertips tracing over the rapidly engorging area.

Sliding his hands down over Damian's, he shifted them until they were pressing against all the right spots, until he was gasping as he helped Damian rub right against the parts he loved putting pressure on when he was getting off. Damian pulled off and kissed along his shaft, tongue slipping out to trail over the ridges along the underside until his mouth was pressed against his base, his lips pressing against one of the most sensitive spots he'd been having them put pressure on and then Damian was _sucking_ and Tim thought the world was going to end in the most pleasurable explosion he'd ever known.

His nerves sparked alive and he grabbed Damian's head, pushed him against it and damn near rode against his mouth until Damian moved, switching sides and repeating the process. 

Tim's cock started to dribble precum, thick strings of it pouring down Damian's cheek as he grew more and more excited. Panting, he thumped his head back against the wall and whined loudly before he started begging. "Please, oh god, _please_ , put it back in your mouth. I'm gonna - _fuck_! I'm gonna fucking _cum_! Shit, Damain, _please_!"

Damian pulled up and Tim gasped as velvety warmth enveloped his cock. Tim just held Damian there, letting nature take its course. He could feel himself swelling, feel his cock growing until he was sure he was down Damian's throat, and then he let his head fall forward, watched as he started to cum, his cock straining.

He watched for the exact second he had to let Damian up so he didn't choke, let go of him and watched him close his eyes, Damian's hand holding onto him, letting him keep coming all over his mouth, his cheeks, everything, until it dripped from his chin, ran in rivulets down his neck and chest, until Tim was frantically humping Damian's hand, bumping his cock against his lips until he was empty.

Damian sat back, his head falling back and his mouth opening, the last little drops of cum falling into his mouth. One hand left Tim and slid down between Damian's legs. The sound of him stroking off met Tim's ears and he was quick - even exhausted as he was - to get down on his knees with him, to pull Damian against his body and hold him there, letting Damian start to hump against him, his cock pressed tightly against Tim's hip.

Every frantic movement, every choked off cry, Tim filed away, knowing he would never forget any of this. No matter the rest of his life, no matter everything else that could ever happen, he'd never forget _this_.

Damian let out a loud groan and then his hips were jerking stiffly and Tim felt the throb of his cock as he emptied himself all over Tim's hip. He buried his face against Tim's neck, panting there until he calmed down enough to stop trying to frantically hump him. " _Shit_." He shifted, his forehead pressed to Tim's shoulder. "I have never been this _horny_ in my entire life."

"All of it? You sure about that?" Even as he ribbed him, Tim could barely contain his smile, the way he felt another kind of pleasure welling up inside him.

"Oh... I'm sure." Damian kissed his shoulder and then settled back, one water-filled hand lifting to rinse off his face. "I may not have been _prepared_ for you to cum like this, but I definitely _like it_."

And _that_ was everything Tim had ever needed to hear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still on the "no pressure" wave. Trying to fill requests one thing at a time. 
> 
> For IWannaBite_TheArkhamKnight and BestRobinEvr - sequel to Nothing Less Than Drake - unfortunately with the first one having deleted their comment I cannot recall what the actual request was. So... more porn it is!

Tim turned his head, stifling a yawn in his pillows as he rolled closer to the heat of Damian's body next to his. They'd been waking up like this for months, entangled limbs and excited post-patrol trysts. There were moments when Tim was certain he was living in some kind of fantasy world instead of the very real one he'd grown up in. Damian never looked at his body in horror, only excitement. He never denied Tim a single thing, not that Tim asked for much. Not for Damian's lack of trying to goad Tim into asking though, that much was for sure.

He slid his leg over Damian's, resisting the urge to rock his half-hard cock against his hip as he settled back in for a few more minutes worth of sleep. 

"Uh..." Damian's voice was quiet, almost non-existent in the stillness of the morning air and Tim didn't stir until he heard what he really had to say. "I um... _shit_ , well... are you even still awake?"

Tim grunted softly in response and Damian squirmed a bit under him until Tim tightened his leg around Damian's, trying to trap him there. 

"So... you do not know what I was doing then?"

Tim shifted, tilting his head up to rest his chin on Damian's chest and blinked blearily at him. "Sleeping?"

An attractive little flush slid over Damian's cheeks and Tim felt his lips quirk upward at it. 

"No, not sleeping."

Tim arched an eyebrow. "Getting up to piss?"

"If I could piss like this, I'd be impressed."

Just like that something flipped inside Tim and he damn near grinned up at Damian. "Were you jerking off? Right here next to me?" That flush grew darker and Tim shimmied closer, rocking his hips forward to Damian could feel the start of his erection. "Say it. Tell me you were."

"I was," Damian gasped out, his hips rolling upward as Tim reached down to fondle the head of his cock, his touch feather-light. " _So horny_." The way he said it left Tim studying him, understanding Damian didn't usually give up such information and if he was it was because he wanted something he wasn't asking for. 

"Tell me what you want."

Damian shivered under his touch, made a sound suspiciously close to a whine when Tim stopped fondling his glans and instead settled his hand on his thigh. 

"Tell me or I don't touch at all."

"Cruel." Damian lay there panting for a minute, his face almost a grimace until he finally offered, "I want to have sex."

"I told you weeks ago you can take me if you want, _when_ you want. I haven't retracted that statement."

Damian suddenly looked tired, dejected in a way Tim hadn't expected, and it sparked a distant overheard conversation between Dick and Damian, Damian's youthful voice exaggeratedly complaining about how people just made _assumptions_ about him and it was starting to drive him mad. That maybe he didn't want what they thought he did.

Two and two fell together and Tim's cock got with the program so quickly he was pretty sure he got dizzy off it. "Wait... you want me to fuck you?" He made sure he sounded as excited as he felt, like his insides were quivering with the very desire Damian wasn’t quite voicing. " _Please_ tell me I'm right."

Damian relaxed, his eyelids sliding shut. "You are right."

Tim scrambled over Damian, reaching for the drawer and the lube he kept there, but Damian's hand stopped him and Tim took one glance at his embarrassed face and knew instantly what Damian was going to say.

"I'm already... uh... ready."

Something almost feral reared up inside Tim and he could barely control himself as he moved between Damian's legs and positioned himself in just the right way. There was no hesitation in his actions as he speared himself up inside Damian's body and he could only hold himself still for a few seconds before his hips were pistoning frantically. He'd wanted this for so long, wanted to take someone, to shove his cock deep and shoot his load right up inside them until he was empty.

Looking down, he watched how Damian's cock was bouncing between them, just how very excited he clearly was. Precum ran sticky down the length of it and Tim swore it nearly trembled with arousal. Damian's sac was tight up against his body, nearly hugging his cock, and he knew Damian was gonna blow even before he did. 

Leaning over him, he offered up a quiet, "You wanted it _bad_ didn't you? Wanted this cock deep in your ass?"

"Yes!"

The enthusiasm surprised Tim and he moaned the instant he heard it, spreading his legs and jack-hammering into Damian's tight passage, his orgasm so close he swore he could taste it. Damian started to cum, hot spurts of jizz splashing up between them. The instant he started to moan, Tim was gone, hunkering over him and breeding him deep and hard until he was shoving in as far as he could cram himself and crying out as he began to empty himself inside Damian, one long stream of his cum spraying up inside him. 

It went on for what felt like forever until Tim was half-sobbing at how good it felt, Damian clutching at his arms as he swooned over him, and then he was collapsing as much off to the side as he could, his cock still offering up feeble streams of cum all over Damian's thigh. 

Try as he might Tim couldn't get his eyelids to stay open. Rather he stared at Damian for the last few seconds before they fell heavily shut, a quiet huff of a laugh leaving him.

_Best. Orgasm. Ever._


End file.
